Seeing Red

“Why would you think she was? Unless…Glenn, you devil. You browbeat Gracie into telling, didn’t you?”

Without acknowledging that, Glenn continued. “When Kerra failed to answer her phone the many times I called, I spoke to the condo concierge. He said Kerra had been there, stopped at the desk to borrow the master spare key to her apartment because hers had been lost.

“But less than fifteen minutes later he saw her leave on foot, carrying what looked like a gym bag. Funny thing is, her phone is still signaling from the apartment. And all that bears your stamp, Trapper. Where are you now?”

“On my way back. But before I cross into your county, I want assurance I won’t be arrested for grand theft auto.”

“That two-bit lawyer friend of yours called,” Glenn grumbled. “He explained the situation and apologized profusely.”

“So we’re good.”

“Not quite. Kerra with you?”

“How about I deliver her to your office in the morning?”

“How about you deliver her now?”

“Because you have your hands full applying pressure to the Okie. You already have Kerra’s signed statement and recorded interview, and anything she might possibly add can wait till tomorrow. And by the way, I didn’t kidnap her. She came willingly. We cool?”

“That time you substituted raw Easter eggs for boiled ones?”

“Yeah?”

“I shouldn’t have talked The Major out of paddling you.”

Trapper laughed. “See you in the morning.”

“Wait. Where are you—”

“Bright and early,” Trapper said, and then clicked off.

Kerra, who’d remained silent but had been following the conversation, asked, “Will we be there?”

“You bet. I really do want a crack at that guy.”

“Even if you twist the sheriff’s arm, the FBI will never permit it.”

“You’re right, they won’t. But I have an ace to play.”

“The flash drive?”

“Flash drive?” He looked across at her and asked innocently, “What flash drive?” Her expression made him chuckle. “No, I’ve got another ace.”

“Goddammit!” Glenn swore when Trapper hung up on him.

He swiveled his desk chair around to the credenza. The carafe of the outdated coffeemaker had been made cloudy by oceans of bad coffee, and the dregs in it now smelled burned and looked as thick as tar, but he emptied it into his mug anyway. The stronger the brew, the better it masked the aroma of the whiskey he laced it with.

He was pouring from the bottle he kept in his bottom desk drawer when one knock landed hard on his office door before it was pushed open and Jenks strode in.

Glenn expelled a gust of breath and sucked sloshed whiskey off the back of his hand. “You almost gave me heart failure.” He recapped the bottle and returned it to the drawer.

“You ought to be more careful,” the deputy said. “I could’ve been anybody.”

“That’s what scared the bejesus out of me.” Glenn took a drink and sighed appreciation. “What’s up?” He nodded at the form Jenks had brought in with him. “No, don’t tell me. That’s Leslie Doyle Duncan’s signed confession.”

The deputy snorted. “Missing person report.”

“She’s with Trapper.”